


I only want a future filled with you

by ggrassy_ddistortion



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Asexual Character, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Jonmartin being soft to cope with the end of tma ;-;;;;, M/M, Set in Episodes 159-160 | Scottish Safehouse Period (The Magnus Archives)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:22:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29783649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ggrassy_ddistortion/pseuds/ggrassy_ddistortion
Summary: "Martin had expected awkward silences, he had expected the way Jon liked to cryptically jump around the answers to his many questions, he had even expected Jon’s fussing over him, to an extent; what he hadn’t expected, however, was the deep sigh that left the chest of the man standing next to him as well as the soft weight of said man’s head falling upon his shoulder. "A book of oneshots set during the Scottish safehouse time that I'm planning to fill with soft Jon/Martin content cos I'm sad about the rapidly approaching end of the podcast loll
Relationships: Jonathan "Jon" Sims/Martin Blackwood, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, The Archivist/Martin Blackwood
Comments: 11
Kudos: 42





	1. Arriving

It was early afternoon by the time they arrived at Daisy’s cottage that was to be their safehouse for the foreseeable future. Nestled in the rural Scottish countryside, the cottage was tiny and made from large slabs of stone and dark wood beams in a way that reminded Martin of images that he saw on the front of postcards in the gift shop at the station in Aberdeen - the only difference being instead of a sky full of pleasant fluffy clouds- both him and Jon were stood in the freezing rain while he fumbled with the front door.  
“O-oh god, I’m sorry Jon I-” Martin started, sputtering as the keys slipped out of his numb hands for what felt like the millionth time.   
“Here, let me”  
Jon retrieved the keys from the little puddle that was gathering on the faded doormat, and unlocked the door with substantially more ease than Martin.   
“The door was rather stiff” he smiled apologetically before moving into the hallway. Hallway was a strong word for the room that Martin followed Jon into; it was more of a tiny extension of the comfortable kitchen/living room that was the entirety of the downstairs. The whole cottage was furnished comfortably, albeit with a thick covering of dust, and seemed on the whole very un-daisy-like in its décor. 

The two of them stood there for a little bit unwilling to move before the other, dripping two little pools onto the floorboards. It had all been one big rush from leaving the lonely, getting the route from Basira, grabbing random clothes from their apartments and getting on a train rushing away from London. There had really been no chance to decompress and process what had happened which meant that now, in the still and empty cottage, Martin felt at a loss of what to say. The world still seemed too dangerous to have the harmless, domestic conversations that this setting would dictate and yet the thought of bringing up how Jon had found him in the lonely made him suddenly aware of the cold that had followed him from London and was not being helped by his soaking wet clothes. He shivered.   
“You should go check out the bathroom situation upstairs!” Jon exclaimed, breaking the silence, "I know - I’ll put the kettle on while you get warm.”  
“Are you sure you know how? I thought I was the tea expert here” Martin teased as he removed his waterlogged trainers.  
“You should have more faith in me Martin, I am still technically your boss” Jon shot Martin one of his signature withering glares that quickly broke down into a fond smile which Martin returned before moving up the rickety staircase directly to his right.

One disappointingly lukewarm shower later, Martin found himself bundled up on the sofa. Jon was surprisingly thorough with the task of warming up Martin- clearly he had noticed how the chill of the lonely’s fog had followed Martin and had tried to stop it in the most Jon way possible; awkward fussing punctuated by tangents of facts about heat loss and insulation that were completely lost on Martin who was entirely too focussed on the fact that the man he has had a crush on for the past few years was now swaddling him in wool blankets. Jon thrust a mug of hot tea into Martin's hands after his mithering had come to an end, and then left Martin to have a shower of his own. 

To his credit - Jon’s swaddling was incredibly effective. On more than one occasion Martin felt his head drooping, in the end he had to put his tea down only partly drunk and relinquish himself into the arms of sleep to avoid spilling it on himself and the rug. His sleep was not restful, however, his dreams were a whirlwind of images- Jon’s face, the fog-filled shoreline of the lonely, the rushing countryside from the train ride up here. He awoke with a start, half calling out Jon’s name in his sleep-drugged state. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, half aware of the sound of hurried footsteps approaching him.   
“Martin? Are you alright?”  
Martin opened his eyes and was met with Jon’s intense ones staring at him concerned from where he knelt next to the sofa.  
“Yeah” Martin sighed heavily and covered his face with his hands, suddenly feeling the need to escape from Jon’s overwhelming gaze; even when he wasn’t using his beholding powers, Jon still had intimidatingly pretty eyes.  
“Nightmare?”  
Martin nodded and pushed himself off the sofa, letting the blankets pool at his feet, and stumbled towards the little kitchen.

He stood by the sink, the glass of water he had filled untouched on the counter next to him.  
“Martin? I think we should talk about... well about everything that's happened really. And what we are going to do next.”  
Jon’s voice called from behind Martin’s back which tensed at the sound. Martin didn't trust himself to reply, his brain seemed convinced that if he opened his mouth all that would escape would be the freezing fog that had haunted his dream. Jon stood with him at the sink, looking out at the grey stained fields that stretched out past the kitchen window. 

Martin had expected awkward silences, he had expected the way Jon liked to cryptically jump around the answers to his many questions, he had even expected Jon’s fussing over him to an extent. What he hadn’t expected, however, was the deep sigh that left the chest of the man standing next to him as well as the soft weight of said man’s head falling upon his shoulder. Martin looked down at Jon who stood leant up against him, long hair slightly damp pressed up against Martin’s neck, and stared out the window as Martin had been a moment ago.  
“I’m sorry Jon, I just-” his heartfelt speech was interrupted, however, by Jon’s head jumping up from his shoulder, his arm pointing out at something through the window.  
“Martin! Are those sheep over there?”  
“What?” Martin stared incredulously at the back of the head that was just pressed against him, before letting his eyes follow Jon’s point at a clump of fluffy grey shapes on the horizon,   
“Oh! Yeah I think so, it’s a little hard to see through the rain but it certainly could be sheep.”  
Jon looked up at Martin with a fire in his dark eyes, “We have to go see, I haven't seen actual sheep in so long what with living in London and all.”  
Martin smiled at his seriousness over such a light topic,   
“Fine. But not right now; tomorrow.”  
“Tomorrow.”  
“If it stops raining”


	2. The Archivist gets migraines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y'know I think having beholding powers must cause some killer headaches.

“I’m back Jon!”  
Martin called from where he stood inside the front door trying to juggle taking his shoes off whilst carrying two rather full shopping bags. After getting no response, Martin poked his head into the living room which, now he thought about it, looked considerably darker than when he left for the village this morning.

“Jon?”   
He called again, flicking on the light switch and moving into the kitchen to start unpacking the shopping. Or at least he would have if a groan of pain from the suspiciously Jon shaped pile of blankets on the sofa hadn't stopped him in his tracks. Martin dropped the shopping and ran over immediately assuming the worst - Did Jon get hurt while he was gone ? What if one of the avatars had found them here?  
“Jon? Jon are you okay??”  
Martin shook what could only be the limp corpse of his boyfriend. A corpse that swore quietly and pushed Martin back so he was sitting on the floor, tears already welling in his eyes.  
“Martin?”  
“Oh thank god. Are you hurt? What happened?”  
Jon looked blearily at Martin and then up at the light that had been turned on, scrunching his eyes before diving back under the blanket, only a tuft of his dark bed hair peeking out the top of his blanket cocoon.   
“I’m fine Martin.” an irritated, and far too hoarse a voice to be fine, spoke from the blanket, ”I just have a bit of a migraine. Can you turn off that light please it's hurting my eyes.”

It took a moment of processing before Martin acted on Jon’s words; wiping his eyes and letting out a relieved chuckle he moved to the light switch and turned it off again. Standing awkwardly by the door he whispered as to not inflame Jon’s migraine more than he already had, “I’m sorry, I thought you had gotten hurt” he shifted from one foot to the other nervously after receiving no acknowledgement from Jon, “I-is there anything I can get for you?”  
The blanket rustled for a few moments before a particularly terrible looking Jon’s head poked up above the back of the sofa and looked at Martin in a way that clearly was supposed to be the unimpressed glare that Martin would receive daily at the archives when they first met, which in this state definitely lacked its usual effect- making him look more pained than anything else.  
“You whisper very loudly.”  
Martin nodded understandingly “I’ll bring you some water” 

When Martin returned with a large glass of water, Jon seemed to have perked up a little; while he still looked absolutely terrible, he was able to sit up properly without having to bury himself in the couch cushions. He placed it on the coffee table in front of Jon and moved to leave as to avoid Jon’s sleepy wrath. That was until He felt Jon grab onto his wrist and pull him down to sit next to him on the sofa. Jon sighed and pressed himself up against Martin. His arms wrapping protectively around Martin’s.   
“A-are you okay Jon?”  
“Martin I am trying to take a nap”  
Sure since the lonely it had been assumed by both of them that they were more than friends- no further confession of feelings seemed necessary- and yet this was possibly the closest they had ever been together with Jon clinging onto Martin like an especially grumpy koala.  
“On me?” Martin squeaked nervously.  
“Yes.”  
Martin sighed and let his head fall against Jon's, closing his eyes.  
“Alright then”.


End file.
